


peach season

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Series: tattoo artist au [3]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, M/M, Trans Character, queer platonic crush, tattoo artist au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2256027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has heavier smudges of glitter-flecked black under eyes than Zitao has on his lids, and Zitao's eyes are glittering too and Sehun smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since this series turned a year old I've been working my way through rewriting it so it better suits my current feelings and views on things. ty for understanding while it's under maintenance~  
> (jm is ace, sehun is aro and trans, tao is !!!!!)

Zitao is outlining the third of an entire mind-numbing stack of delegated stencils when he hears himself mentioned at the counter. Not by name — just a low, monotonous tone asking if the studio has an apprentice.

"We do already have one." Jongdae pouts sympathetically and neglects to mention that the studio across town is currently hiring. She might be good, and then he'd have to shut his own fingers in a door. "Don't give up on what you're doing, though. There's always openings coming up, and—"

"No, wait," she interrupts in the same tone; unalarmingly soft. Jongdae flutters his lashes at her as though she's stepping on his toes, but she's busily digging around in her bag, clattering items around before coming up with a notebook. "I came for a tattoo. Your apprentice's rate is cheaper, right?

Zitao doesn't need to look up to know what expression Jongdae is making right now, but he can't resist. He rests his chin on his palm and hides a grin behind his fingers as he watches Jongdae's jaw working tightly. She drops the design onto the counter and Jongdae pulls it closer with a fingertip. She's tall enough that she doesn't need to push onto her toes to lean around to see.

"Yes," Jongdae says stiffly, and Zitao would keep grinning if his eyes hadn't wandered to the customer. There's two glittering dermals beside her left eye and a stud through both cheeks. One of Zitao's feet finds the floor so he can crane up just a little closer. The ring through her septum has a jewel in it, he thinks.

It takes a long moment for Zitao to realise that Jongdae is calling him over. He catches his knee on the edge of the desk in his hurry; her impassive expression lightens a little as he stumbles towards the counter. He'd have preferred a slightly better entrance, but she's looking at him more fondly than Jongdae, so that's a start.

"This is Zitao." Jongdae claps him on the back just a little too hard once he's steady on his feet again. "Apprentice. Pretty good."

"Just Tao," Zitao corrects, gripping at the edge of the counter. She has little stars inked at her temple, he can see now he's closer, and a thin line of script curved in the shell of her ear. Zitao can't see her shoes, but she's at eye level with him.

"Sehun," she says in return, sliding the design away from Jongdae and across to Zitao. Jongdae purses his lips, annoyed, but Zitao can't spare him any sympathetic attention with Sehun leaning her attention towards him. "I wanted to get this."

Sehun's nails are the same mint green as her hair and still touched to the edge of the page. Zitao bends down instead, pointedly not looking anywhere in the vicinity of Jongdae as he studies the design. Jongdae makes him nervous when he has to use his own judgement rather than following orders. He's good at shading, though, and this looks like it'll be mostly that.

"Sure." It'll only take four colours; it's a pretty basic, blocky design. Sehun taps her nails on the counter top, and Zitao's line of vision slips up. Her hand looks a little larger than his own, fingers wide and blunt. Zitao startles when one lifts and presses to the pastel blue diamond inked above his ring finger's nail.

"Cute," she says with a little smile. Heat flushes across the back of Zitao's neck as she lightly traces the lines.

"My boyfriend won't buy me a, I want a real one," he blurts, unsure why he wants her to know. He smiles in return but it feels kind of shaky, and he's staring down at her chipped nail still and not her matte pink lips. Work, though. He's working. "But, yeah. Where were you thinking of having it?" He asks, sagging when she pulls back.

Zitao risks a glance at Jongdae when Sehun turns her back on them. He's staring ahead, eyes glazed. He just wants to be there to smack Zitao's wrist if he books her in wrong, and to ensure he's not flirting while dating Jongdae's best friend. Zitao's Korean is soft and slow but ever strengthening. Even on his forgetful days the standard patter is well ingrained. Jongdae's not sure about his flirting yet. He's pretty lost on exactly how Zitao appealed to Junmyeon in the first place, let alone how he'd go about straying.

"I was thinking here?"

Zitao just about manages to keep his expression neutral when he looks back to find Sehun with her cream cord-knit cardigan shucked down to her elbow, hair swept aside. The side of her head is buzzed like Zitao's, stubble the same soft pink his previously red hair had faded to. Zitao is a (sort of) professional and more than used to exposed skin, but Zitao is also easily flustered by people he's drawn to. Sehun is mercifully ignorant to his fumbling as he leans over, ears pink-tipped, to move the strap of her sundress.

"Uhmm." Zitao looks back to Jongdae for approval as he holds the design in place at her shoulder. Her skin is so hot through the paper. Zitao's generally pretty easygoing about how much touching this job involves, but Zitao doesn't develop immediate, chaotic butterflies for most of their customers. Jongdae's got his arms folded and his eyes drawn narrow as he nods. "Yeah," Zitao says, quickly sinking back to his own side of the counter. "That's fine. I'll just make it a little bigger so the details are clearer."

"Cool." Sehun lifts her hair and shrugs the cardigan back up.

They confirm dates, prices, times (Sehun's only free for Zitao's last slot of the day; she's a student. Jongdae looms too imposingly for Zitao to enquire further), and Sehun leaves a minimal deposit. Zitao tucks the notes into the back of his book instead of throwing them into his drawer with the rest.

Sehun leaves with a little wave to them both, and Zitao has a split second to peer over the counter and see that her shoes are barely an inch of heel before Jongdae lets loose and he forgets all about it.

There's a fine line between artistic integrity and insulting Zitao's work, and to avoid patronising customers (good for morality, bad for business) Jongdae refrains from reminding them the consequences of a cheaper option when it's something that's going to be there _for your whole life, Tao, honestly, these people._ Zitao obligingly nods along, filling in with a few concerned sounds at appropriate moments. All part of being a good apprentice, keeping your boss happy.

"And what was with you getting all gooey over her?" Jongdae throws onto the end of his rant when he decides he's still got some annoyance left to spare. "I didn't think you were into girls." He gives Zitao an accusing squint, and he shrinks back against the counter.

"She was just nice," he wavers, still clutching the design she brought in. "I love umma, I do, only him." His voice is steadily rising in pitch as Jongdae's withering look doesn't let up. "Hyung, she was just really nice. Her hair— she was so tall, she just—"

"Enough." Jongdae groans. Nothing is ever simple (or quiet) with Zitao. "If you say so. She seemed kinda rude to me."

Zitao looks wounded at that, but Jongdae's not in the mood for it, so Zitao just pokes out his tongue.

 

When Jongdae is less disgruntled and settled at his station and Zitao is situated back at the light box with his stencils he risks texting Junmyeon, phone balanced on his thigh.

_a really pretty girl just booked in with me. she wss tall as me almost_

Junmyeon replies a few minutes on, Zitao's phone buzzing softly between his thighs.

_That's nice. Did you make friends? :-)_

Zitao tuts down at the screen. _i told you not like that. like this :) she has piercings amd stars on her face. her shoukders are so big_. Zitao pauses there. He's not sure why that's worth mentioning, but he'd noticed it and it's a detail that's sticking. _shes having the tattoo there. she touched my hand and i think i blushed_ (¯―¯٥)

He's definitely blushing at the thought of it. Zitao's just really, really enchanted by some people — Junmyeon being the obvious first, Sehun a polar opposite. Junmyeon is thankfully pretty endeared to how Zitao enthuses about how wonderful people can be — it poses no threat to him, and Zitao's enthusiasm for anything makes him smile. Zitao is mercifully nearing the end of the stencil when his phone vibrates again.

_Glad you're having a nice day, but don't give Jongdae's studio a bad reputation. Back to work :-(_

_umma :((( pick me up later!! love you 加油☆☆☆_

 

Sehun is precisely two minutes early for her appointment. Zitao points this out to Jongdae by means of smacking his thigh with the hardback cover of his schedule book, because Jongdae's been finding excuses to complain about Sehun all week. Jongdae snatches up a ruler from his desk to retaliate, but slouches back into his chair to look professional and concentrated as Zitao scurries away to open the screen door.

Zitao preemptively looks up as he slides the door aside. "Come through," he says to Sehun's forehead. She's wearing Vans today and isn't quite as tall. Zitao accidentally looks down at those and her galaxy print jeans and her large hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt before finding her eyes. "All set up and ready," he continues, fingers impatient and fumbling with the latch on the door as he slides it back shut. "So you'll just need to tie your hair out of the way and—" Zitao's surprised he didn't notice immediately that it's changed colour. "It's really pretty," he blurts.

Her hair is in loose ringlets today, entirely milky pink now spare for the stubborn streaks of green. Zitao wants to say something about peaches, but the words won't form. She has heavier smudges of glitter-flecked black under eyes than Zitao has on his lids, and Zitao's eyes are glittering too and Sehun smiles.

"Thanks. Yours too," she says without so much as a glance towards Jongdae as she steps around him with her bag held up out of the way. Zitao glances at his own hair in the mirror as he passes, giving the back a little fluff up with his fingers. Junmyeon had been disappointed he'd chosen a darker tone than the red. Junmyeon said the black and blue he has now looks like a black eye, but Zitao didn't ask if that was a bad thing. Junmyeon only has complaints when drips of dye stain the bathtub and pillows.

Jongdae performs such an exaggerated roll of his eyes when Zitao passes that he still isn't finished by the time Zitao is trying to elbow him in the neck.

 

Sehun's smiles are mostly sweet and small, but every now and then her eyes round into crescents. Zitao's been working on her for twenty minutes when he realises he knows this. "So, any reason you're getting this?" He asks, and he probably worded it a little bluntly, but Sehun just hums thoughtfully.

"I had a little while where things were kinda rough, but it's all coming together now. I just wanted something to— ow, to show for it, I guess."

"Yeah? Sorry." Zitao lifts the needle for a moment. Sehun has sat well so far, a paper towel tucked around her straps and her shoulders broad as Zitao remembers steady against the back of the bench. "Your classes and stuff are going ok too?"

"Yeah." Sehun drops her face into her folded arms as the needle presses back in. It's nowhere near the worst she's had done, and Zitao's touches are surprisingly delicate for how big and enthusiastic he seems. "Everything is pretty good. It's just been a good year, really," she continues with her eyes squeezed shut, lashes thick and oddly angled as the skin around them crinkles.

Zitao bites back a smile. It makes him happy to know she is — he and Jongdae do more than enough designs for people who are trying to overcome the opposite. "Tell me if you need a break any time. It'll be another half hour, so if it gets too bad.."

Sehun turns her head just enough for her eyes to rise lazily at Zitao. "I had my face tattooed, I'm good." It's such a similar tone to the way Jongdae warns people away from shins and hands that Zitao whines and knocks her other shoulder with his gloved knuckles. He was being nice, not picking a fight.

"So?" He dismisses, and Sehun smiles at the way his pitch is suddenly three notches higher. None of this is a competition unless someone wants to make it one. "I had my throat done and that's like, the worst place ever, but it still hurts other places too. I was being cons, con—" Words. Words are so hard when someone makes you all irritated and fluttery inside. "Considerate!" He puffs out his cheeks, and Sehun hits him back, harder, just above his knee.

Not only does it actually kind of hurt, it's high up enough that Zitao unintentionally squawks. Jongdae raises his head, and Zitao quickly ducks his down, busying himself with running the needle through sterilised water. Ok, so they can keep going, no break required.

 

Jongdae is lethargically clearing up his station for the day by the time Zitao is starting the final stages of Sehun's tattoo. She was only booked in for an hour, but she's Zitao's last appointment anyway. He's always slower when customers get him talking. Jongdae's getting a headache.

Sehun is in the midst of lecturing Zitao on eyeliner technique when the chime above the door sounds. Jongdae gratefully leaves them to it, and Zitao only falters in his retaliation ("yeah but I'm an _artist_ , I don't need guidelines") when he hears the familiar sound of Junmyeon's voice. His heart reacts before his head; after the initial wave of affection a panicked blush spreads over his cheeks. He's talked about Sehun a lot, and there's very little of it he'd not have to move back to China and live in a hole if it was repeated in front of her.

"Myeonie," Jongdae gasps like a dying man, flopping over the counter to reach for him. Junmyeon offers his hands, politely puzzled and not at all unaware of Zitao trying to make himself small behind the counter. "Myeonie, does Tao ever make you feel old?"

"Occasionally." Junmyeon smiles and tugs at Jongdae's hands. "Come round here and talk about grown up things with me."

Jongdae gives his hands a squeeze before mustering up the energy to walk around to the door. Good old boring reliable Junmyeon. "Like, _really_ old." Jongdae looks deeply troubled as Junmyeon leads him to the waiting area couch.

 

"Hey. Tao, hey. Is that— Tao." Sehun turns back and forth to find the right angle to catch eye contact after Zitao's wiped the beading blood from her shoulder and pulled away to run the needle clean. She flutters her lashes at him demandingly and his stomach twists.

"Yeah." Zitao grins, face hot. He suddenly feels struck a little shy; it's not often he can introduce Junmyeon as any more than an acquaintance. He can only assume he's got that look on his face that Jongdae complains about from how sharp of a curve downwards Sehun's mouth takes.

"The one who won't buy you a ring? Men are such a pain," she huffs, folding herself back over the chair. It strikes Zitao again how pretty her hair is as she tilts her head back to add: "Present company excluded."

Well that's something. "Thanks. But umma, he's." Zitao loads up on white ink and rests a gentle hand between her shoulder blades. "Umma is a nice man. He's kind. And pay.. p, patient? And he works really hard, and—"

" _Ow_ ," Sehun interjects loudly. Tao had seemed like such promising company, but no, of course he's disgustingly in love. To her credit there is blood curdling with the white ink. "Everyone thinks their man is different. He looks short. That's a bad sign to start."

Zitao lets out something of a bark when trying to swallow back a traitorous laugh fails. "He fits under my chin," he says, voice so thick with happiness the words ard barely intelligible.

"Oh my god." Zitao takes his foot off the pedal when Sehun feels like she's going to move. "I want more for you. Like," she raises her hands in what Zitao assumes is a measure of Junmyeon's narrow shoulders. "More. Of everything."

"But umma—" he tries to protest, but giggles get the better of him. He forgot not to call him that, but it seems to be the least of Sehun's problems.

"More," she insists. She quirks a brow, and Zitao has to pull away to muffle his laughter with his forearm. " _Everything._ "

 

Junmyeon waits until Sehun has left, shoulder taped over and still bickering with Zitao until the door closes behind her, before he slips behind the counter.

Zitao is still debating which emoji to save her contact under when arms snake around his shoulders, tightening into a squeeze that pulls him back against Junmyeon's chest. "Umma," he beams up at him, wiggling to tilt his head back further. "Did you see her? Isn't she really nice?"

"I did. She is." Junmyeon returns the smile with a fond nuzzle to Zitao's hair before leaning further, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Are you going to stay in touch?"

Jongdae is knuckling at the bridge of his nose as he joins them, groaning. "You make enough noise on your own." Zitao squirms a little, but doesn't put up much of a fight when Junmyeon placates it to a gentle sway. "The last thing I need is your girlfriend here on a regular basis."

Zitao sputters at that. "She's not," he whines, head thudding back against Junmyeon as he looks up to him again. "She's not," he repeats earnestly, but Junmyeon just smiles and smoothes his fingers through Zitao's hair. Zitao gets like this about people, and that'd probably be more worrying without the hours of tearful discussion they've had about how confusing liking people is.

"You suit each other," Junmyeon says kindly. "If you're going to be friends you might just have to put up with people misunderstanding."

"They can." Zitao pouts. "Just not you. She's not. I don't want her to be."

"I'll just clear up here so we can leave, shall I?" Jongdae snaps on a pair of gloves loudly enough to make his wrists tingle but not enough to alert Zitao to the fact he should be grateful he has such an incredibly lenient employer.

"She's just nice," Zitao mourns for at least the fifteenth time since he met her a week ago. She's so nice. She's kind of a jerk too, but compatibly so, and it's all unfair. Junmyeon makes a sympathetic sound as he starts swaying them again.

"I know. Don't worry, sweetie," Junmyeon says with a soft little peck to Zitao's hair. It takes a moment to register before Zitao lets out a horrified sound and almost shoots out of the chair.

"No! I don't want to play this again."

Junmyeon grins. Jongdae looks over at him like he wouldn't be sorry should their friendship meet a sudden, violent end.

"Cutie?"

" _No_ , umma," Zitao whines, curling in on himself. Umma is umma; Zitao doesn't need a petname in return, and he certainly doesn't need one of Junmyeon's choosing. "Stop it." He wiggles in protest, but Junmyeon just tightens his arms around him and hangs on.

"Baby?" He tries, and Zitao freezes. Ha. "That one is good?" Junmyeon sounds admirably curious and not awful at all asking, and that only makes Zitao flush darker. He bunches up as small as he can, but Junmyeon is small and sharp and has an unfair habit of always being able to worm his way in. "Being my baby is good?" He asks conversationally, and Zitao almost yelps at the brush of lips to his ear. Horrible. Junmyeon is horrible.

"Christ." Jongdae turns away with a gloved hand covering his face. "Junmyeon, you are the _worst_ —"

Zitao heartily agrees, lips pursed shut, whimper loud and high. He looks like a stressed kitten, while Junmyeon just looks placidly pleased with himself.

" _Fine_ , he doesn't have to stay," Jongdae huffs. "Just. Go away. Get out before I spray you with green soap."

 

"Success." Junmyeon grins up at Zitao as they head towards the car, looking so pleased with himself. Zitao looks like he's processing the word for a moment before he gradually slows to a halt.

"You said that just so hyung would kick us out." Zitao looks scandalised, not a question but a realisation. He somehow feels even hotter now despite being out of the stuffy studio. "And you— but, it. Why— _No_."

Junmyeon tilts his head curiously at the way Zitao's flapping his hands. He's so easy to rile up, Junmyeon should probably be kind and learn some restraint. "Weren't we playing?" He asks as he catches one of Zitao's flailing arms and tucks it in tight at his side, tugging him along. Zitao sputters in annoyance, knowing the blush creeping down his neck must be visible. Junmyeon just smiles in a way that almost makes Zitao trip over his own feet. " _Oh_."


	2. Chapter 2

Jongdae approaches the studio with a dubious but lovingly made lunch bag from Yixing in one hand and his link of keys swinging in the other, and that's where the normality of his morning ends. The door is already locked, lights on behind the blinds. Judging by the jacket, bag, and set of keys Jongdae can see between the print on the glass shopfront, Zitao is already inside.

And Zitao works there, sure, it's not like he isn't _allowed_ to open up by himself if he happens to be there earlier than Jongdae. But that is a. and incredibly rare occurence, and b. from the stillness when he walks in, Jongdae can safely assume Zitao isn't there because he wanted to make an early start.

"Zitao, I don't know what you're doing," Jongdae sounds as stern as he possibly can while clutching a bag dotted with cartoon elephants (Yixing had loved them; Jongdae hadn't realised at the time that they weren't intended for Yixing's own use). "But if you don't have a good reason for being in my studio without me.." It's a little early for Jongdae's temper to fully stoke up, but he gives the screen door a good rattle as he opens it — just enough drama to counter the lunch bag. If Zitao is doing anything he shouldn't be — so if Zitao is doing _anything_ , really, touching anything in Jongdae's precious studio without permission..

Zitao is doing nothing of the sort, though. Jongdae finds him curled in on himself in the centre of the bed at his station, legs drawn to his chest, forehead pressed to his knees.

"Oh." Jongdae immediately softens at the sight, sliding the door shut behind himself and glancing over his shoulder with concern. "Tao? Tao." Jongdae sets his bag down on his way over, resting a gentle hand at Zitao's back as he leans down "Taozi, hey.. How long have you been here for?"

Zitao shakes his head. Tries to sniff through his nose and splutters wetly from how stuffed up he is. Jongdae rubs at his shoulder, hand firm. Zitao has easy tears for day to day occurences, but when he's upset like this it's either his family or Junmyeon. Junmyeon would have already texted Jongdae.

"Did you fight with your parents again?" Jongdae asks gently. Jongdae is a dick to Zitao on principle — life experience, but he doesn't have anything but sympathy for his situation with his parents. He rubs his thumb over the nape of Zitao's neck when he chokes again.

Jongdae's parents were more eagerly supportive of his work once he'd graduated alongside his apprenticeship, proud when he'd opened his own studio ( _all that inky mess_ got them a new car, too). Yixing's parents support him through Skype and texts and thrice yearly pileups in Incheon airport, and they never have anything but smiles for his friendly Korean roommate. After three months of Jongdae's mother politely reminding him to leave his door open when Yixing came over to visit he moved half an hours drive away and bought a double bed. Jongdae's glad he isn't nineteen anymore. 

"Can you really not move in with Myeonie yet? It'd.. No, ok." Jongdae regrets asking when Zitao balls up even tighter, shoulders hitching. Jongdae slips his arm right around him and squeezes, shushing him. "Don't make your pretty face all blotchy right before your first customer. Do you want me to call your mom for you?"

Zitao finally lifts his head at that, almost butting Jongdae's chin. "Wha?" He gives him a confused, worried look, mouth gaping. "Why would you call— Hyu—" Zitao sputters as Jongdae takes the opportunity to press a paper towel lifted from his station to his wet face. He whines and makes a minimal effort to squirm away as Jongdae gives him a good scrub clean, but not enough to stop him.

"Your other mom," Jongdae explains as he passes the damp towel into Zitao's hands. "I'll let him know you need picking up later."

Jongdae doesn't get this thing they have, and he's never really wanted to understand, honestly. But he did an admirable job of not cringing, and he's glad of it when Zitao brightens up with an abashed little smile.

 

Zitao sees through his first appointment with a stuffy nose and his expression so fiercly set that the girl spends more time finding inane questions to ask about Jongdae's stocktaking in the background than risking conversation with him (it's a boring job; Jongdae's actually kind of glad to have someone to tell the ins and outs of juggling pharmacy and catering supplies). His second cancels by text five minutes after they were due to arrive.

Jongdae gives his sagged shoulders a little knock with his knuckles. "It was only another birthdate, right? Nothing too bad to miss out on." He fishes the cost of the deposit out of his drawer and pushes it into Zitao's hands. "Sehunnie will be on break soon, right? Go do whatever you two do, I don't need you for a few hours."

"Oh." Zitao gives Jongdae a cautious look. "Are you sure?"

Hmm. Zitao must be out of sorts if he's reaffirming permission. "Yes. Go. Treat her to something pretty. Or yourself, you'll both be happy either way."

"Yeah." Zitao's smile is a little glassy, but it's a smile nonetheless.

 

When the chime above the door sounds, Jongdae has been enjoying blissful silence for almost long enough to complete a new sketch for the wall. No one ever wants zombies. Which is a crying shame; they're his favourite, but he's already got two of his own. He lives in hope that plastering the walls in them will encourage someone one day.

"Just a moment," he calls vaguely when the lack of noise gives away that it's not Zitao coming back. Instead there's a soft, "Hey," so familiar that Jongdae doesn't raise his head before motioning to the door off it's latch. "Junmyeon, hey. Come through. I don't have anyone in for an hour."

"Lucky you." Junmyeon pulls the screen shut behind himself and peers over at Jongdae's drawing as he rounds the desk. "She's pretty," he says, tilting his head in consideration at the visible bones and meat in the otherwise classical pin-up. There's a paper bag rolled up in his hands, spotted with sugary grease.

"You spoil that kid," Jongdae says when he stretches back in his chair and notices it. Bite with no venom; Junmyeon just is how he is. "You never used to spoil me."

Junmyeon shrugs. "You hate being spoiled." He smiles. "But you can share these with Taozi if he feels like sharing."

"Or." Jongdae reaches for Junmyeon's hands and steers them in the direction of his desk, waiting for the bag to drop. "How long have you got? I sent him out for a lunch date."

"A half hour." Junmyeon pouts. Junmyeon looks a lot like a preteen in a suit when he does that. "With Sehun?"

Jongdae nods. "Sorry Myeonie, I wasn't expecting you to come in til later." He gives Junmyeon's shoulder a pat with the hand not occupied with getting into the bag. "He looked like he needed to talk."

Junmyeon makes a little sound — agreement, sympathy. Much as he's prepared to be there when Zitao needs him, life doesn't always let him honour that where immediate responses are involved. Junmyeon's grateful that Zitao's friendship with Sehun took off. It's a relief that he has someone who texts at his own speed any time of the night or day, who sleeps similar hours and has a different kind of approach to tackling upsets. "When she stays over they talk for hours. All kinds of stuff I can't keep up with."

"Wait, Myeonie." Jongdae's brows are raising higher, hand suddenly heavier at his shoulder. "She stays over? In the apartment your boyfriend doesn't even live in? How many teenagers are you planning on hoarding?"

"I only have room for the two. They're pretty big."

"I don't know how you get yourself into these situations," Jongdae sighs, shaking his head. Junmyeon just smiles. Neither does he, really, but it's been playing out pretty well so far.

 

"Myeonie. About Tao," Jongdae says after a good three minutes of staring down into his sketch trying to convince himself that he shouldn't say it. "I.. Wait, no." Jongdae sets his pencil down and holds his hands up when Junmyeon looks up at him with his eyes big and worried. "I'm not getting rid of him or anything. No need for that look. I just.."

"Just..?"

Jongdae frowns. This is awkward. He's known Zitao since he was seventeen, so tangled in security that Jongdae had carried out his interview with Junmyeon there, Zitao wringing Junmyeon's fingers between his as Junmyeon supplied words he couldn't form. He likes to think he understands him well enough, but Junmyeon is the one that knows him deeper down. "His homelife doesn't seem to be improving," he starts, and Junmyeon nods. "Are things going ok with you two?"

"Jongdae," Junmyeon sighs. Jongdae can be subtle when he wants, but he doesn't really bother with people as close as Junmyeon.

"He just seems weird with people sometimes," Jongdae presses on. He and Junmyeon are the kind of close that weathers uncomfortable conversations with relative ease — it's not worrying to antagonise when it's out of concern and Junmyeon will cool down again anyway. "Like with Sehun. It didn't seem to bad until she reciprocated, but I just.. I don't understand, Junmyeon. If everything is ok."

Junmyeon has the courtesy to at least look like he's thinking about it before shrugging. "Taozi just likes people that make him feel good about things." He looks so calm about this that Jongdae feels a little hint of anger spark up that his concern his being brushed off. 

" _Junmyeon_ , I know you don't feel this stuff the same, but I know you're perceptive to it. It's nice they hit it off or whatever, but they have this gross obvious crush on each other and you're letting her stay over with you guys?"

Jongdae and Yixing charm Junmyeon with how gently they feel things. Yixing loves as softly and tranquil as he does everything else, and Jongdae functions so much better with pressure from work and peace at home. Zitao has a few strokes of Junmyeon's name remaining in keloid on his thigh, pale and subtle to touch. It happened; Junmyeon tries not to draw attention to it. Sehun touched them once, made Zitao's face burn hot as she pressed a nail into his thigh and made sure he knew what a fucking idiot he is. 

"Sehun isn't interested in relationships. Especially not with men." Sehun dislikes them so much as a whole that Junmyeon is still surprised when she wedges herself between himself and Zitao, or leans heavy over his shoulder in the same way Zitao does (often at the same time; Junmyeon is glad for his upper body strength).

"I don't feel like I really know what Tao's interested in any more," Jongdae says, and as soon as he says it wonders if it's a little far. He was just kind of used to them all being on the same page. Well, Junmyeon's page is a little different, but it's at least on the same shelf. 

"I don't think it's really having any impact on our relationship."

Jongdae should be happy to hear that, but he feels a bit deflated, really. Mostly for bringing it up at all — Junmyeon's not particularly sparing of details when it's between the two of them, and he hasn't mentioned Sehun in any context but positively since Zitao attached himself so firmly to her. "I just worry about you, y'know? Both of you. I know you said he was fine with how you are and all, but it doesn't mean I don't worry in general."

"Appreciated." Junmyeon reaches to give Jongdae's forearm a pat. Jongdae was fine with it, too, when they'd been together. Jongdae's well aware of how resourceful Junmyeon is — he's been wise to never ask exactly how all that stuff has been working out. "We were lucky," he says as Jongdae resumes adding patches of torn flesh to his pin-up. "Neither of us went through too much of a rough patch at that age. Taozi just isn't. But I think he just needs a little support now, and then—"

Jongdae interupts him with a loud, intentional clatter of the pen container on the desk. "You love him, very nice. Back to work." Jongdae raises a hand to shoo Junmyeon away. He can't help grinning, and Junmyeon aims for one of the lilies inked over his bicep when he smacks him.

"I know you feel gross things about Yixing, too."

"Nah." Jongdae pouts and pointedly looks away, eyelashes fluttering. "I just knew he was going to be an amazing cook and feed me well, ok. At least I don't take in strays. Like you just, you two are the worst suited couple I've ever seen and you just act like it's hilarious."

Junmyeon nods along impatiently and shrugs up his sleeve to check his watch. He should get going, regardless of whether Jongdae is trying to get rid of him. "We're happy and it bothers people. Nothing not funny about that," Junmyeon says sweetly as he stands. Jongdae clucks his tongue. True, that. 

Jongdae follows Junmyeon as far as the dividing door to see him off, then drapes over the counter to watch him walk round. "Do you think he's gonna grow out of calling you umma any time soon?"

Junmyeon shrugs a shoulder. "Probably not. He calls me it all the time, it's just stuck."

"All the— and he knows what it.."

" _All_ the time," Junmyeon says with the sweetest of smiles, then makes a quick exit beofre Jongdae has stopped looking appalled for long enough to order him out.

 

"Junmyeon came in while you were gone. He brought food." Jongdae holds the paper bag up, brazenly guiltless for it being considerably lighter than when Junmyeon had left it in his care.

"Umma did? And I missed him?" Zitao exclaims, dropping Sehun's arm in favour of reaching for the bag. They've talked and it's cool, so Jongdae offers Sehun a little smile when he catches her eye. "That was so nice of him! And I missed him when he took time off to come over here and stop off to buy these first, he's s—"

"Sehun, tell me," Jongdae interrupts in desperation, brandishing the sketch he's been working on as a peace offering. Sehun looks more than a little surprised at Jongdae attempting direct conversation with her, but she obligingly reaches for the paper. "Coloured or shaded?"

Sehun straightens up and looks at the design first up close, then held away. She blinks slowly, eyelashes heavy and a harsher tone of pink than her hair. Zitao watches on from the side, looking admirably doleful for someone with half a donut crammed in their mouth.

"Is this for someone?" She asks instead of answering the question. "Or could I reserve it?"

Jongdae suddenly doesn't mind at all how far he has to crane his neck to make eye contact. "You'd like this? With all the..?"

Sehun nods. "The ribs look cool." 

Zitao swallows hard and shuffles closer, perching his chin on her shoulder to look over at the design. "It'd look nice, but you'll have to save up forever to afford hyung."

"And you would have to have me, not Tao," Jongdae warns, aimed as much at Zitao. Zitao pouts his sticky lips.

Sehun shrugs Zitao off her shoulder and nods. "If you don't mind holding it."

"No, no, that's fine." Jongdae scans his desk for his appointment book and scrabbles for a pen. He's waited his entire career to put a zombie on someone other than upside down on himself, a few more months won't matter. 

"This is nice," Zitao says happily, sucking sugar from the fingertips of one hand while he taps at his phone with the other. "Umma will be happy if we're all friends. Umma—"

"Stop," Sehun groans half a second before Jongdae, who blinks up at her. She blinks back and shrugs. Zitao gets the distinct impression that they're communicating, and that it's about him, and that they should say it to his face if they don't want sugary fingers in their hair.

 

"Hey." Jongdae slides his phone across the countertop to Zitao. Sehun's long gone, and it feels like it's been at least an hour since there was any activity from a customer. The sun through the glass front makes the studio warm and its occupants lethargic as the day draws on — they're both just waiting for the working day to end now. "Look how Junmyeon does a smile"

"I told him already not like that," Zitao says, softly exasperated, and buries his face into his folded arms. It's been a long day. His eyes still feel pretty sore from this morning. "What did you even do to deserve one."

Jongdae snorts and pulls his phone back. "I deserve a ton of them for putting up with you and your friends. And your awful boyfriend. I just want a quiet life."

"He is awful," Zitao agrees. He shuffles a little closer and drops his heavy head to Jongdae's shoulder. He's bony and uncomfortable, but Zitao's not really picky when it comes to affection. "A quiet life with Yixing ge?"

Jongdae huffs. It ruffles the tips of Zitao's hair. "Something like that, yeah."

"I'd like that, too. ..with umma, though, not ge." Zitao frowns. So warm and sleepy. He's been meaning to say thank you to Jongdae, or something along those lines, for his care this morning. But while Jongdae is by no means the most comfortable of pillows, Zitao's starting to seriously flag. He drifts, briefly, and he can't be sure at all whether he really felt Jongdae's inked fingers through his hair before the chime above the door sounding makes them spring apart as though they're allergic to each other.


End file.
